I'm not sure where this photo came from- but goodness. It is exactly what I need to hear.
I miss making music.
I miss sitting at the keys.
sometimes I don’t have words.
but I can fill the empty space by weaving a thin melody that shows up.
I don’t enjoy playing notes. I spent years of my life learning, eating,
consuming the ‘Written Word.’ I didn’t want to play some other man’s idea-
and to be honest? I didn’t want to write my own. That isn’t what music was for
me.
But in a moment of heartbreak.
distilled confusion
unexpressed beauty
and a slice of hope
I could sit. I could touch the keys. And something would show up that would never show up again. A sincere moment of speaking in tongues, if you will, between my fingers and ivory. Often I would be the only one to witness those moments- like a private viewing of an unspoken prayer.
The numbness faded completely with this fast.
and I’m wondering if it is time to sit at the keys again?
